


Running Out Of Time

by skittenninja



Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cages, Death Threats, Gen, Kidnapped Merlin (Merlin), Kidnapping, Magic, Threats of Violence, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittenninja/pseuds/skittenninja
Summary: Whumptober 2020 Day Four: A continuation of what I wrote for day two!After being kidnapped, Merlin wakes up alone and in the dark. Trapped and unable to use his magic, he is left to either give in to his captor's demands or watch it all boil over into a bloody end.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949905
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Running Out Of Time

**Author's Note:**

> People seemed to like the short thing I did for day two, so here's a continuation! It's not super long or anything, but it was really fun to continue with this little snippet of a storyline.

When Merlin woke up, he was immediately aware of two things: that his mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton, and that he was leaning against cold metal in an uncomfortable position.

Wherever Merlin was had no light whatsoever, his eyes opening only to be greeted with more darkness. He didn’t need sight, however, to feel that although his hands seemed to be tied behind his back, his legs were unrestrained.

Using the metal object he’d been leaning against for balance, Merlin was able to shakily begin to stand.

Only to be stopped when his head collided with more metal above him.

Merlin immediately fell down, landing on even more metal. His head throbbed with pain, and he became aware of a kind of cloudiness in his mind that he couldn’t quite seem to shake. It felt like he was moving through water, both mentally and physically, to the point where it took him far too long to decide to use a spell to give himself some light.

His attempt at this was also thwarted. The words came out clumsily, his tongue feeling far too big for his mouth. He was still able to pronounce it right, and he could feel the magic in the air before it suddenly died, like someone had snuffed out a candle.

At that point, Merlin began to panic. Not only was he lacking the use of his regular senses, but his magic, something he considered so integral to his sense of self, was gone too.

He was completely trapped in the dark, and he had no means of escape.

Out of desperation, Merlin tried to cast a spell for light again, only to be greeted with the same result. He was in the middle of trying for a third time when suddenly a door from across the room, one he hadn’t been able to see due to the darkness, swung open.

Light finally entered the room by spilling in from the hallway, and Merlin had to squint initially to try and see who had just entered. Shadows covered their face, but Merlin could tell they were watching him, eyes locked on their captive.

Someone outside the room handed the figure a torch, which they then used to light another inside the room. Then another, and another, until the room was well lit enough that both Merlin and his captor could look each other in the eyes.

Merlin could also see, to his horror, that the reason he hadn’t been able to stand was because he was stuck in a cage. He’d been locked in the corner of the room like an animal, metal bars with a strange blue hue preventing him from leaving or even moving much at all. Merlin thought he could make out something inscribed on one of the rods across from him, but his vision swam every time he tried to read it and the fog in his brain would not lift to allow him to focus.

The person outside the room shut the door, and Merlin suddenly felt even more trapped. Claustrophobic.

His captor, a tall man in dark clothing whose face was adorned with several scars, studied Merlin for a moment before speaking.

“Comfortable?” He remarked sarcastically in a gruff tone. When Merlin made no response, he let out a wheezing laugh.

“Good,” the man stated as he walked towards a table and chair in the other corner of the room. He then grabbed the chair and pulled it away from its resting place and towards Merlin before sitting down on it casually, as if they were about to have a lighthearted discussion.

“You probably want to know why I brought you here,” he said with an unreadable expression.

“To be completely honest, I don’t really care,” Merlin retorted. He tried to seem unfazed by the situation, but the strange feeling in his mind was inhibiting his ability to mask his fear.

The man smiled wryly at Merlin and shook his head with a small chuckle.

“I like you, Merlin. I really do. So, I propose you make this easy for me. I would like you to tell me as much as you can about Camelot’s defences, about the king and prince. What say you to that?”

“I regret to inform you that I don’t like you at all, and a servant like me would not know enough about anything to help you,” Merlin lied. It struck him as odd that the man knew his name, but his vision swam and tilted again, preventing him from inquiring about it.

“Oh Merlin,” the man said, clicking his tongue in disappointment, as if he were scolding a child. “I was hoping you would be above lying.”

“You think they tell me anything?” Merlin asked with a laugh, hoping to throw him off. “I know how the prince likes his chicken, if you’re interested in that.”

The man sighed, then pulled something out of his pocket that Merlin couldn’t recognize.

“I wish it had not come to this,” he said, walking back over to the table. He started moving something around on its surface, but the man’s back was to Merlin and happened to perfectly conceal what he was doing.

“I hope this might persuade you to be a bit more cooperative.”

Merlin was about to ask what he meant by that when suddenly his vision went white, a lighting bolt of pain rocketing through his skull as a horrible ringing filled his ears. His hands pulled and struggled against the rope, skin weeping as the abrasive texture and harsh movements began to tear it open. Merlin pressed his eyes tight, as if it would help, trying his best not to scream but needing some way to express the agony that racked his head.

Slowly, all of it died down. The ringing faded into background noise, pain subsiding just enough so that it was bearable. As he opened his eyes, Merlin also realized he’d fallen over onto his side at some point, but he didn’t have the energy to get back up again. He could only focus on taking one ragged breath after another.

“Interesting little device, isn’t it?” The man asked. Merlin was able to still see his face from the angle he was lying at, and there was a repulsive gleam in his eyes as he watched his pained captive.

“What?” Merlin croaked out, too shaken to think of anything witty to say.

“The cage,” the man explained. “It used during the Great Purge to hold magical creatures, crafted by some followers of the Old Religion themselves after Uther threatened to kill them otherwise. If the creature got a tad too rowdy, one could complete the spell inscribed on it to conjure a rather painful affliction of the head for what was in its confines. Of course, as you’ve now noticed, I discovered more modern uses for it. It truly is excellent at helping me start a conversation with my guests.”

Merlin shut his eyes again to avoid looking at the man’s face any longer, fearing he might vomit. While it was comforting to know that the man didn’t seem to be aware of Merlin’s magic, as he just admitted to using the infernal cage on anyone he’d captured, the discovery of why he was unable to cast any spells was unsettling. He’d been locked in it for torture, just like so many other magical creatures before him, magic suppressed to prevent his escape, and it felt incredibly dehumanizing.

Another wave came crashing down on him, ringing even louder and pain even harsher. It caught Merlin off guard, and he didn’t bother trying to put on a brave face as he screamed, the torturous feeling lasting for what felt like an eternity. Something warm started dripping down his mouth from his nose, and Merlin could taste something metallic at the back of his throat.

When it ended, Merlin coughed and gasped for breath, spitting blood across the floor of the cage.

“I should mention, Merlin,” the man said, his voice incredibly painful to Merlin’s ears, “that you have a limited amount of time to assist me. If I decide not to reverse the spell, things will get a bit… messy, and frankly, your death would be of little consequence to me. After all, you’re simply a servant. Is that not what you said?”

Merlin opened his mouth to spit something back at the man, more blood escaping his lips.

“You know, you really seem to like the sound of your own voice.”

The man didn’t like that. The cage began its assault on his senses once more, the ringing noise so loud Merlin could swear it would pierce through his brain like a well-aimed arrow. His vision went white again, although it didn’t matter much considering Merlin instinctively shut his eyes tight in an attempt to handle the agony. That warm, dripping sensation was coming out of his ears now, with even more blood gushing from his nose and filling his mouth. He could practically choke on his own pain. Every part of him was begging for it all to stop, so tempted to just tell the man what he wanted and find an egress to this nightmare, but a tiny spark inside refused to let him do so. After all, Merlin had always said he would protect Arthur or die trying.

And he was willing to try.

After another incredibly excruciating bout of the cage’s magic, Merlin coughed again, more blood staining the floor just in front of his face. He could hear his own heart beating in his ears, and the ringing and pain were fading less and less after each round of torture. Soon there would be no respite.

“I will give you another chance here, Merlin,” the man said, though his voice sounded so distant. “I highly doubt you’ll be able to take much more of this, and it would only be a minor inconvenience for me to have to dispose of your body and find a new informant. There were several perfect candidates in the woods with you, wouldn’t you say?”

“They would never tell you anything,” Merlin spat, his voice and body both trembling. “And neither will I.”

The man hummed in thought for a moment.

“How many do you think I can get through before someone finally talks? Before they get tired of watching their friends die? Even if I do end up getting nothing from them in terms of information, I do think having those closest to the heart of Camelot tragically perish will do wonders for weakening the kingdom.”

The man was looking at Merlin in anticipation, waiting for his response. Merlin couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You won’t get away with it. Someone… they _will_ stop you, you can’t-“

“And are you willing to bet your life on that?”

Merlin’s gaze shifted sharply upwards again to find the man grinning at him, the sickening glee from a choice he’d just made written plainly all over his face. He’d decided Merlin was a lost cause already, probably drawing up a list of new targets in his mind.

He was going to die here, and his friends were next.

That was the only thought on his mind as the pain hit him again, the ringing mixing with his own screams. It felt like his internal organs were slowly being liquified. It felt like metal was scraping against every single one of his bones. It felt like someone was repeatedly taking an axe to his brain over and over and over again. It felt like all his blood would seep through his face, ears and mouth and nose and eyes all horrifically sticky, the pungent metallic tang assaulting any sense that wasn’t preoccupied enough with the agony.

Images flashed through his head of this happening to Gwaine, to Lancelot, to Gwen, to Leon or Elyan or Percival.

Or even to Arthur.

Those thoughts were some of the worst parts of the entire ordeal.

Then, without warning, everything stopped. It wasn’t like the brief moments the man usually gave Merlin to catch his breath, where the ringing and pain and blood were only diminished instead of eliminated. All of it had truly vanished, every single horrible sensation.

Apparently, Merlin had started sobbing at some point, though he had no idea when, and he was unable to stop doing so even when the pain had ended. His whole body was trembling violently, and he couldn’t stop spitting out the remaining blood that had pooled in his mouth and throat. His breaths were raspy and frequently cut short by his own coughing.

There was a clicking noise, then the sound of old metal hinges swinging open.

Through the tears and blood, Merlin managed to open his eyes and could just barely make out Arthur’s face. Seeing his halo of golden hair and sky-blue eyes was enough to make Merlin cry even harder.

Arthur seemed to notice that Merlin’s hands were still restrained, as he helped the battered man sit up slightly before reaching back to his person to grab something. He could hear and feel something sawing away at the restraints at his hands, then they finally fell to the blood-stained floor of the cage.

There was another noise then, and it took Merlin a moment to realize that Arthur was also crying. Even with his hazy vision, Merlin could see spatters of blood on his armour and an unmoving, human-looking silhouette lying by the table. It seemed ending the man’s life was more than enough to end the spell of the cage.

Neither of them said anything after that. Arthur just pulled Merlin out of the magical prison and into a hug on the floor. No one else walked into the room, no one else came to hurt him again.

The two of them remained there, comfort at the end of a nightmare, wordlessly crying and holding each other until Merlin finally felt himself stop shaking.


End file.
